


your blessings

by Burning_Nightingale



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Loyalty, M/M, Ritual Sex, Sex Magic, Sexual Rituals Related To Monarchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 23:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14319888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/pseuds/Burning_Nightingale
Summary: Loyal knight and sorcerer Valin needs to cast his most powerful protective enchantments over the King if he's to survive the upcoming battle.But that means using Susencryni, the ancient magic of his people. And the only way it'll work is if he has sex with the King.Sometimes, Valin really questions his ancestors' choices.





	your blessings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/gifts).



> ;)

Amphala had been the one to put the idea in his head.

“He’s trying to act like a serious king now,” she’d said, grinning her sly cat’s smile. “But we all know what he’s missing. Not enough pretty young men around here to help him pass the time.”

Valin, because he’s a huge idiot and was only half listening, opened his stupid mouth and asked, “What use could he have for pretty young men on the battlefield?”

After Amphala had finally stopped laughing, she’d said, “We all have our flaws, Valin. King Roibyn, well…he likes spending his nights with beautiful, interesting, dashing young men. And older men, if the mood takes him.” She’d made a face at him. “I know you Lyeni get all funny about things like that, but for us it’s not such a problem.” She’d given him a long, considering look, and then said, “You’d be his type, if you were at all willing to unbend that stuffy Lyeni propriety of yours.”

And now here Valin is, unbending.

Or, trying to. He’s been standing in front of the King’s tent for fifteen minutes now, trying to drum up the courage to step inside and make what might possibly be the most embarrassing proposition of his life.

He has sworn himself in all things to Roibyn; his mind, heart, and body all belong to the King, and have done since he stood no higher than Valin’s knee. If something is distracting him from doing his duty, it’s Valin’s job to fix it.

Eventually, of course, Roibyn comes out himself, a curious expression on his face. “I thought it was you I could hear sighing out here,” he says. “Is something wrong?”

Valin manages to bite out, “We should speak. Inside. Sire.”

Roibyn raises his eyebrows, but he retreats into his tent. Valin follows.

“Something is wrong,” Roibyn says, leaning back against the pole that holds the tent aloft in the middle, his arms folded over his chest.

“Amphala seems to think there is.” Valin stopped, unsure how to say this out loud. “She seems to think you are… that you’re lacking…”

Roibyn tilts his head to the side. “Lacking what? Supplies? Men? Victory?” He says the last with a small, teasing smile.

“Male company,” Valin says, hating how embarrassed he sounds.

It takes Roibyn a second to get it; when he does, he laughs a bright, brilliant laugh, all flashing white teeth and tossed red hair. “Ha! She would say that.” His laughter subsides, and he looks thoughtfully off into the distance. “She’s right, I suppose. There are camp followers, but they’ll never beat a brothel. Besides, I’ve been spending most of my time focused on strategy. What with the challenge facing us, I’m surprised Amphala has time to think about bodily pleasures.” His beautiful face is marred by a frown as he looks back at Valin. “Why do you mention it?”

The mention of their upcoming, near-impossible battle against the Usurper’s forces makes an idea spring to life in Valin’s head.

“It’s because I’m going to be performing Susencryni,” he says, before he can lose his nerve, “And I need someone to help me.”

Roibyn stares at him for a moment. Then he does something Valin has never seen; he blushes. “And you- you need me?”

“Well.” Valin shifts from foot to foot, a nervous gesture he hasn’t indulged in since he was a child. “I need someone, not necessarily you, though this type of magic is often stronger when royalty is involved, and I myself, well-”

“You wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else,” Roibyn says, almost breathless.

Valin has no idea how Roibyn is always so perceptive, but he thanks his lucky stars here and now. “Yes. That’s- that’s it. Sire.”

Roibyn holds up a finger. “One rule. You’re not calling me ‘Sire’ in bed. That’s a step too far, even for you.”

Valin has never called Roibyn anything but ‘sire’ or ‘my lord’ or ‘your majesty’.

Still, he nods.

/

They return to his own tent to perform the ceremony. Valin banishes his squire and manservant and stokes the fire with shaking hands, more nervous than he’d first thought. Performing this ritual will grant them a protection like no other, but there’s a reason he’s rarely used Susencryni before, and never since he came to Roibyn’s court. Susencryni is about opening yourself wholly to someone else, and Valin has never been particularly good at that.

Roibyn waits in a chair at the centre of the room, watching Valin make the last finishing touches to his preparations. “Is there anything I need to do?” he asks.

“No, sire, I have it all-”

Roibyn interrupts him with a disapproving noise. “I said no ‘sire’.”

Valin stares at him in consternation. “What should I call you then?” he asks, almost biting his tongue off to stop ‘my lord’ coming out at the end.

“My name,” Roibyn shrugs.

Valin swallows. He’s never used Roibyn’s given name to his face, not once in the long sixteen years they’ve known each other.

Maybe tonight will be harder than he thought.

Eventually he can stall no more; the preparations are done. He turns to Roibyn, taking a deep breath. “It’s ready. We can…start.”

Slowly, Roibyn rises from his seat. He lets the light robe he was wearing fall to the floor, holding eye contact with Valin the entire time. “Take a deep breath, Valin,” he says as he steps closer, puts one hand on Valin’s shoulder. “Relax. This won’t be hard.”

Valin closes his eyes for a moment, and then opens them again, determined. He wants to do this. Before he can stop himself or think about it too hard, he leans down and kisses his King on the mouth.

Roibyn responds with fierce eagerness, pulling Valin down to him with an iron grip on his shoulders. The difference in their height has never been more apparent; Valin has to crane his neck to reach. For a moment he tries to concentrate on that, his instinct still pulling him back to propriety even as he knows he has to let go, has to feel every emotion in its entirety for this ritual to work. He takes a grip on Roibyn’s waist and throws himself into the kiss, revelling in the warmth of holding him close, the sweet taste of honey wine that lingers on his lips.

 

Valin pulls away and lays kisses down the side of Roibyn’s soft, pale throat, and his soft gasps make fire shoot up and down Valin’s spine. He’s spent so long just watching, fixating on small, perfect parts of Roibyn, like his neck and his hands and his thighs and now he gets to touch-

“Should we- be doing anything- different-” Roibyn pants out, dragging his fingers through Valin’s long hair.

“Different to what?” Valin asks from where he’s pressing his lips against Roibyn’s collarbone.

“From- from usual-”

“Later.”

Though perhaps they ought to be on a bed, Valin thinks, vaguely noticing that they’re still standing. He prepared a soft bed of cushions for them to lie on. They should…do that.

Roibyn agrees with this suggestion, though he insists on removing both of their shirts before he’ll lie down.

Valin gives into temptation and kisses Roibyn a little more, a little longer, before he starts getting on with the actual business of Susencryni. He can indulge a little, he tells himself. He has Roibyn here, after all.

Eventually he needs to sit up and say, “We should be, er, naked now-” The ‘sire’ almost trips off his tongue, but he manages to hold it in.

Roibyn looks up at him and laughs, the open, eager laugh that only those closest to him get to see. “I would tell you that you don’t need to be so awkward, Valin,” he says, reaching up to stroke Valin’s cheek, “but that’s part of what makes you so appealing.”

With their clothing removed, Valin pushes Roibyn back down onto the cushions, arranging his limbs in a relaxed position. “Be still,” he whispers, “This requires precision.”

Roibyn follows his instruction, his skin shivering only a little under the paintbrush as Valin draws the intricate, complicated patterns onto his skin. “I’m convinced this is torture,” he says when Valin is halfway down his right thigh, “You get me aroused and then make me wait? This is a cruel and unusual punishment, Valin.”

“It’s necessary for both subject and caster to be aroused before the paint goes on,” Valin says, distracted.

“You’re always so practical. That’s what I like about you.”

When the patterns are done, Valin runs his hands over them, light as feathers. He closes his eyes, concentrating on both the lust and the power pumping through his blood, and calls on both of them. A raw jolt of energy shoots through him and out down his arms into his hands, clinging to the patterns wherever he touches them.

When all the lines are infused with power, Valin eases himself almost gingerly atop Roibyn’s thighs. He can feel everything, skin to skin; the sensation makes him blush.

“Can we disturb the lines?” Roibyn asks in a whisper. He seems much more serious than before.

“They’ll stay now, no matter what we do to them,” Valin says, and then leans down to kiss him again.

For a while they just kiss and touch, Valin revelling in the sense of the forbidden he gets when he touches Roibyn’s skin. Roibyn is the King, his lord, he’s not allowed to do this - and yet he wants to, has wanted to for so long that it makes his chest hurt.

Then Roibyn pulls back from him and says, “Can we do this any way we want?”

“The only requirement is that we both…finish,” Valin says.

Roibyn grins, a mischievous look in his eyes. “Well then.” Then he shimmies down Valin’s body, until his head is level with his hips. Valin knows exactly what he’s about to do, and can’t help blushing several shades of red.

Roibyn gives him one sly grin before he rocks forward and gives one long, luxurious lick up Valin’s cock. Valin can’t hold back an embarrassingly loud moan, which seems to please his King no end. Roibyn presses his soft lips to the head of his cock, dragging his tongue in maddening circles, and Valin’s breathing is coming way too fast. He can’t tear his eyes away as Roibyn sinks further down his cock, enveloping him in glorious wet warmth. His fingers unconsciously tangle themselves in Roibyn’s hair, tugging on it gently as he sucks, pulls off, and resumes his maddening long licks up all sides of Valin’s shaft.

This is what heaven feels like, Valin thinks wildly, watching Roibyn take his cock fully back into his mouth again, bobbing his head up and down. His eyes sparkle as he looks up at Valin, and even with his mouth full of cock he manages to look cheeky and devious. There’s something about the eye contact that makes it all more intense, more real; Valin can feel his cheeks burning, his breath sawing in and out of his chest.

He comes with a flash of white light behind his eyelids, a moan dragged out of his chest. When he opens his eyes, the lines of protection are already dark and swirling gracefully over Roibyn’s skin, which means he must have finished as well.

He blushes at Valin’s questioning look. “Just watching you was enough,” he admits.

That makes something warm in Valin’s chest, but he elects to ignore it. “The magic is sealed, then,” he says, “That will offer you a decent measure of protection, my King, though it will slowly lose its potency under repeated assault. It will vanish instantly if I die, or will slowly fade within a week otherwise.”

Roibyn rolls his eyes. “What did I tell you about calling me ‘sire’ in bed, Valin.”


End file.
